This is a long-overdue sneak peek. More on the story will be at the end.

Photo #130: Maxon Schreave's Day Off

One thing Eadlyn always admired about her father is that he never stopped working. There was no clear division between home and the office because they're under the same roof. His mind still, even if they were on vacation, Eadlyn would catch him working, in the early morning or late at night: composing weekly reports for The Capital, writing speeches for upcoming events, reading reports, checking rapport with Lady Brice regarding policies, the castle staff, and his charities. It's not like Illéa took a day off just because their king did.

This next photo looks like it could've been taken on any day. It's similar to a photo she swears she just saw. It's her father sitting at his office, surrounded by all his paperwork. One major difference is that he's looking up at the camera with a small confused yet joyful smile. Eadlyn only remembers this moment because her mother wrote in the white space on the polaroid, day off! The one-day Eadlyn's father had a day off was because her mother made him.

But he had to be off now, right? There's no way he'd be working now when her mother needs him most. He wouldn't. Eadlyn knows that for sure.

-o-

As a prince, Maxon was organizing troops, making laws, perfecting budgets all while his father would watch him mess up because he hadn't yet acquired his experience, then corrects his mistakes. Now as King, Maxon isn't sure if he's doing them right and he has much more to do and consequences for his mistakes. Without his father's presence over his shoulder, he's left to trust his own judgment which is hard to do since his father would always tell him that everything he was doing was wrong.

The earliest decision he made in his abrupt start to his rule as a reigning monarch was picking his queen. His queen who would walk by his office many times during the day to fill him in on her work, make sure he wasn't swarmed, sit by his side when he needed her, and if he lost track of time which was often, would drag him away at the end of the day.

Even if Maxon lost track of time while working, he knew when America would stop by. It wasn't because he could hear her footsteps coming down the hall. Knowing when she would be at the door became a sixth sense, like clockwork despite her not coming at the same time every day.

Maxon's eyes flicker up and, as always, he sees America standing at the door. However, she's not in her usual outfit. Instead of a nice top and pants, she was in flannel pyjama pants and a white tank top with an open bathrobe to match her bottoms. When he smiles at her, that's when he notices she's holding one of his cameras which confuses him.

Everything about this sight is confusing. He had to look at the clock to see if it was early in the morning or late at night, but it's only the middle of the afternoon.

"What are you doing?" Maxon asks her.

"Maxon Schreave, as your queen, I order you to get in your pyjamas before you do work with me," America says.

Maxon blinks, putting his pen down on top of his work. He leans back in his chair, a smile growing as America saunters into his office.

"And what work are you asking for?" Maxon asks as America sits down on the edge of his desk beside him.

"A day off," a soft laugh escapes her lips, "as ironic as that seems. The kids and I are in the movie theatre. Ahren and Eadlyn are making popcorn while Kaden and Osten pick a movie. We're all in our pyjamas, waiting for you."

"You should've made time on my schedule."

America wrinkles her brows. "I'm your Queen. I am your schedule."

Maxon looks up at her, impressed. "That's a new one."

"Illéa won't mind if you take a day." America runs a hand through his greying hair. "You work too much which isn't bad at all. History has monarchs who ruled for the glam instead of the policies. I know you have to but I don't want you to get burnt. Your father worked so, so much."

Maxon nods, thinking back to the days when he would shadow his father. It scares him that when he would remember his father, it would be something work-related. He didn't have many memories of where his father was what a father should be. Sometimes he wasn't sure he knew what that word meant. They never watched movies together or spent time together that wasn't policy-related.

"My father always working is how I thought it should've been," Maxon says.

America nods. "It's how you were trained. It's what you know and believed to think as correct, and it is but not as extreme. Even if you decide to work in your pyjamas, I consider it a step forward since you'll arguably be comfier. I doubt anyone will mind except maybe if you're in an important briefing with some top officials. I won't mind if you woke up one morning and just went straight to work. No time spent on getting ready. You might even get more work done."

"I thought you were trying to convince me to work less."

"I'm working on it. I dressed up, our kids are dressed up, and we're setting up the theatre."

Maxon looks up at her and puts his hands on her hips, holding her robe and pulling it towards him. "You always dress for work."

"I can wear whatever I want and still get work done," she responds, looking at his paperwork and dating something for him.

Maxon glances over and signs it since it was a document he already read. "That, you do."

"Now, day off starting now." America smacks the pen again.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Two years ago on this day, I published the following story:

Clint Barton's Days Off - What was Clint up to during the fall of SHIELD? Spoilers: not dealing with HYDRA. / What was Clint up to before Thanos' snap? Spoilers: not fighting Thanos. (Avengers Endgame Prequel / Crack-Fic / AU)

If you go to my profile to look for it, you'll have to scroll a lot. It's a two-shot I genuinely enjoy to this day.